Triple Ecstasy

So I made friends with a porn star. Her name is Kimberly Kane. It’s pretty awesome. She comes over for dinner twice a week and wears nothing but heels. She hangs out with me and my wife in our hot tub, calls me on my birthday, and sends me well wishes when I’m sick. It’s kind of like she’s a real person. I’m almost to the point where I think she actually might bleed if I cut her. Yet, even though we’re pals, I think she’s kind of a retard. She’s all thin and has small, real tits. It’s like, “HELLO! You’re a porn star. Didn’t you get the memo? Grow up. Where’s your fake tits? Where’s your butterfly tramp-stamp tattoo? Why aren’t you taking it in the butt? Where is your vacant look?”

Those things aside, she really is a nice lady. She’s actually dating my old roommate, a well-known photographer named Dennis McGrath. I think he shot that barbecue piece with the Black Panther a few issues back. When he and I lived together, a little thing called September 11th occurred and his weed-induced paranoia hit 30,000 feet. He had a broken leg at the time and for months afterward he would smoke weed, watch C-SPAN, and peek out the front blinds, waiting and watching for terrorists. He knew they were eventually going to come and kill us all. And he was right. Now we’re all dead.

Recently my porn BFF asked if I would lend a smart, literary quote to the back cover of the new dirty movie that she directed for Vivid. I laughed at her and said she was stupid. “No one reads porn box covers and nothing I say is going to convince anyone to buy your movie.” Yet she insisted and I agreed. Because she offered me a blow job. I’m just kidding. She didn’t. (Or did she?) But as I went to write her a quote I thought about how unnecessary anything I wrote would be. And I didn’t want to do it anymore, blow job or not. But then I started to think, “Maybe, just maybe, I could write something so profound that it would entirely change the way people look at porn-box-cover quotes. I could reinvent the genre.” And so I wrote her a 13-page ode to her film, broken up into three chapters, and emailed it to her. It is obviously far too long to reprint here. She wrote me back, “I love it but can you cut it down to one sentence?” Fucking bitch.

Here is the short list of the quotes I resubmitted:

“If it weren’t for Kimberly Kane we would not be watching Kimberly Kane today.”

“Triple Ecstasy makes me happy I never committed suicide for real.”

“Kimberly Kane makes the kind of pornos you want to bring home to meet your parents.”

“Look into Kimberly Kane’s vagina and you will see the future.”

“My other car is Kimberly Kane’s mouth.”

“Is it wrong to want to rape Kimberly Kane?”

“Why can’t scientists grow more Kimberly Kanes on the backs of lab mice?”

“Kimberly Kane and Triple Ecstasy are the very reason America is great.”

“This movie is so dirty it made me stick my penis in the disc hole. I mean, my friend did.”

“Triple Ecstasy is a safe alternative to dogfighting.”

“Triple Ecstasy is like an AIDS quilt, just with less fabric. And less AIDS.”

I forget which one she went with. Whichever it was, I’m still waiting for my blow job. (I mean, not.)